


Where's Eren?

by wasterella



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:52:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9208715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/wasterella
Summary: Whenever he asked the question. Whenever he needed to know the answer. Every time, without fail, Mikasa and Jean didn't answer. They just told him to look at his book.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Additional Warning Tags at the end.

** Where’s Eren? **

It had been hard. For a while, he didn’t even really notice anything different, because he didn’t know any better. Every day he woke up was a new day, and it helped mask the repetitiveness of it all. The only hints he received that something wasn’t right was other people’s reactions to him.

It was mostly just Mikasa and Jean, because that was who he spent all of his time with. He didn’t know if anyone else lived with them. They might’ve, but he didn’t remember.

Ever since he’d died and been magically restored to life, his mind wasn’t what it used to be. Mikasa told him it was during the last battle, but he didn’t remember the last battle. He didn’t remember dying, either.

But he had. He’d died, and something had happened, and he’d come back. But he’d come back wrong. He couldn’t remember things.

For someone like him, with a mind as sharp as his blade, to have lost that was devastating. The thing was, half the time, he didn’t even remember that he’d lost it. Someone usually had to remind him, but they didn’t remind him every day.

Usually it was when Jean was in a bad mood, or when he asked Mikasa the same question one too many times and she just snapped.

He’d gotten used to it. Or, at least, he _thought_  he’d gotten used to it. He didn’t remember _not_  being used to it, so he supposed not reacting badly every time he got snapped at and reminded of his condition made him feel like a part of him had gotten used to it.

But it was still hard once he knew what was going on. He always woke up clutching a book, but he’d set it down before consciousness fully returned and then wander to brush his teeth and get dressed for the day.

Some days were better than others. Some days he woke up and remembered what was happening, and where he was, and he would go down to breakfast wearing casual clothes. Mikasa always seemed happiest on those day.

Other days weren’t as good. He would wake up, brush his teeth, and dress for war. When he went downstairs in his uniform, he always saw the looks of disappointment on Jean and Mikasa’s faces. He always saw how sad they were that they would have to deal with him not remembering all over again.

Those were the days Jean went upstairs and came back down with the book. He always gave it to him, and while he remembered keeping it with him at all times, he never remembered reading it. He knew he must, because a mind like his, curious and eager for knowledge, would never have a book in hand and not read it.

When he walked downstairs that day, he was in his uniform, and within moments, Jean was putting the book in his hands, fingers gentle and sad smile on his face before motioning the table.

Mikasa set a plate down in front of him before returning to the stove. She portioned the rest of the food out onto two other plates, and it occurred to him that they’d been waiting for him to wake up before eating.

When she returned to the table and Jean had taken his seat, the two began to eat, but he didn’t. He looked around, frowning in confusion. Weren’t they going to wait?

“Where’s Eren?” he asked.

Neither of them said anything, but Jean looked up from his plate with a smile and pushed his book closer to him.

“Your food’s getting cold,” Mikasa said softly, but she had stopped eating, staring down at the food in front of her.

He said nothing, pulling the book closer and opening it to the first page. He read what it said, frowning a little, and then began turning the pages, reading over what he saw. When he froze at the words in front of him, he looked up and found Jean holding out a pen.

With shaky fingers, he reached out for it, took it in his hand, and pressed the end against the page.

* * *

“Hey Mikasa?”

“Hm?”

“When is the Captain coming back?” he asked, sitting on the hard wooden steps of the porch, wearing his uniform and feeling the straps of his gear digging into his skin. He must’ve been gaining weight if it was getting tighter on him. Must’ve been all the food Mikasa kept making him eat.

He watched her while she finished slicing through a cylinder of wood with an axe, straightening and using one hand to wipe across her brow. She watched him for a few moments, pressing her lips together, then said,

“He’s not coming back.”

He frowned. “Why not? How is he going to brief us if he’s not here?”

There was sadness in her expression when she looked at him. “He doesn’t need to brief us, the war is over.”

He stared at her. “What? That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not. The war is over. We won.”

She’d put another piece of wood on the stump in front of her and swung the axe down. It split in half with a loud ‘thwack’ before she jimmied the end of the axe out of the stump.

“But that can’t be right. The war can’t be over, there’s still so much we need to do. We still need to stop Bert and Reiner.”

“We did,” she said without looking at him, picking up another piece and putting it on the stump so she could attack that new one. “It’s over.”

“No it’s not.” He frowned. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

He supposed he should’ve guessed that, she didn’t believe in jokes. Actually, he wasn’t sure she knew _how_  to joke.

Looking around, he frowned when he saw Jean in the distance. He couldn’t tell what he was doing, but he knew it was Jean. Glancing back at Mikasa, his frown deepened.

“Mikasa?”

“Hm?” She swung the axe down.

“Where’s Eren?”

The axe slammed into the stump, Mikasa breathing hard from the exertion. She looked up at him, their eyes meeting, and then she averted her gaze.

“Where’s your book?”

“What book?” He turned his head to look around himself, confused, and found a book sitting beside him. He picked it up, and held it out to Mikasa. She just motioned for him to open it, then grabbed another piece of wood to split.

Frowning, he did so, reading the first page. It only confused him for a moment, then he began to flip through the pages. He went slowly at first, and when he hit a specific page, he paused, a scowl on his face. Looking up, as if to ask for something, he started at seeing Mikasa right in front of him, sweaty and panting, holding out a pen.

* * *

This wasn’t right. He didn’t feel right about this. Shouldn’t they wait?

He squirmed in his seat, looking back and forth between Mikasa and Jean while they spoke. Jean was talking about some kind of water leak he was working on fixing, and Mikasa—surprisingly—wasn’t biting his head off. They just chatted quietly about the leak and ate their food, but he didn’t.

His eyes kept straying to the empty chair beside him, wondering why it was okay for them to begin without him. It was rude, and he knew for certain Mikasa had been raised better.

“Shouldn’t we wait?” he asked, interrupting their conversation without really meaning to.

Both of them paused in their eating and looked over at him. He saw Jean swallow what was in his mouth before he spoke.

“Wait? Wait for what?”

“It’s rude to start without everyone being at the table. Where’s Eren?”

He jumped when a fist slammed hard against the table, the cutlery rattling against the plates. His gaze shifted to Mikasa, her clenched hand on the table between her plate and Jean’s. Her head was bowed, hair curtaining her face, but he could tell she was trembling. Her laboured breaths suggested it was from anger.

“I can’t,” she said in a low voice. “I can’t today.”

“Mikasa—”

She didn’t let Jean finish. She stood with a loud scrape of the chair against the floor and threw her napkin into her half-eaten plate. Turning, she headed for the door, exited the house, and slammed it behind her so hard that the floor shook and he was surprised that the frame didn’t break.

He swallowed hard, wondering what it was he’d done wrong.

“Hey,” Jean said quietly. Confused, he turned back to his friend and saw him pushing something across the table. “Your book.”

He looked down at it, not sure he understood. He remembered holding it earlier. Shockingly, he could often remember holding the book.

Glancing up at Jean, he looked back at the book and pulled it closer, flipping it open to the first page. Written there, in neat little print he recognized as his own, were words.

_These are the questions you ask the most often._

He shot a look up at Jean and then back down at the book again, turning the page slowly with shaking fingers. He could feel his heart rate picking up its pace in his chest and he licked his lips, eyes carefully reading the question on the next page.

_**Where are we?** _

Beneath it, still in his writing, was the same answer twelve times. He could only assume every time he forgot, but remembered asking the question, he wrote it down. He hadn’t asked that question today, that he could remember, so he didn’t write it down and flipped to the next page.

**_Shouldn’t we be out fighting the Titans?_ **

This one had a few more answers and Jean held out a pen when he looked around. Unhappy with himself and feeling a hollowness in his chest, he took the pen, pressed the point to the line beneath the last time he’d written the answer, and wrote it out again.

_The Titans are gone. The war is over. We have won._

Flipping the page, he read the next question, then the next, then the next. He went through the book, writing down answers to questions he had asked throughout the day and simply re-reading the ones he hadn’t.

When he went to flip the page again, Jean’s hand suddenly shot out and slammed down on the page, making him jump. He glanced up at his friend, seeing Jean’s head bowed and his shoulders tense. With a grind of his teeth that was audible from where he sat, Jean slowly removed his hand and turned his face away, staring out the window as if finding something fascinating outside.

He turned the page, and the moment he did, his stomach fell and he understood. He knew why Mikasa had reacted the way she had. He knew why Jean had slammed his hand down on the page. He knew why he forgot this answer. It was because he didn’t want to remember the answer to this question. Even as he stared, he began flipping the pages slowly, seeing the same answer over and over again. Every repetition was as shaky as the one before it, and the answer filled eight entire pages on its own, the same four words over and over.

The one thing he was more than happy to forget.

**_Where’s Eren?_ **

_You’re Eren, Armin’s dead. You’re Eren, Armin’s dead. You’re Eren, Armin’s dead. You’re Eren, Armin’s dead. You’re Eren, Armin’s dead. You’re Eren, Armin’s dead. You’re Eren, Armin’s dead. You’re Eren, Armin’s dead. You’re Eren, Armin’s dead. You’re Eren, Armin’s dead. YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD. YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD. YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD. YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD. YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD. YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD. YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD. YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD. YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD! YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD! YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD! YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD! YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD! YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD! YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD! YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD! YOU’RE EREN, ARMIN’S DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOURE EREN ARMINS DEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD!  YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD!  YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD!  YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD!  YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD!  YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD!  YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD!  YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEAD! YOUREERENARMINSDEADYOUREERENARMINSDEADYOUREERENARMINSDEADYOUREERENARMINSDEADYOUREERENARMINSDEADYOUREERENARMINSDEADYOUREERENARMINSDEADYOUREERENARMINSDEADYOUREERENARMINSDEADYOUREERENARMINSDEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_  
**_YOU. ARE. EREN._ **  
_**ARMIN. IS. DEAD.** _

Eren closed the book.

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> I had a weird day. Decided to write a weird thing.
> 
> Additional tags: Major Character Death.


End file.
